Well That Was Unexpected
by Papaya Cloud
Summary: Futuristic fic. Rachel is a Broadway star and unexpectedly stumbles upon Quinn. Being evasive as always, Quinn's occupation and lifestyle is a mystery to Rachel, and she'll do whatever it takes to figure out just who Quinn has become. Up to season 4. All characters belong to Glee, I do not own anything just writing for fun.
1. Chapter 1

R

Sitting near the window, I mindlessly stare at the steady stream flowing atop from my morning vanilla latte.

After finishing a six weeks long Broadway hit show of Fancy Lady, I decided to reward myself to a brief and a long-awaited tour to Paris, alone. Sure, I could have taken my fathers with me, or even my vacant boyfriend, but I just wanted to soak in the French culture and fully rejoice my successes in my life. I mean this is what I ever wanted, right? Then why doesn't it feel…complete? Or right? Just a week before the rest of my break ends, I decided to return to New York before continuing work. A mindset like mine always requires me to settle in and prepare for the next stage agenda since I've become one of the best and upcoming stars Broadway has ever seen.

No matter how much I needed to rest from jet lag, my biological clock inside of me decided to wake up at 6:00 sharp this morning. So I decided to head to the nearest Starbucks to bring me out of the foggy haze before running some much-needed errands.

I raise my latte to my lips and inhale the sweet scent before taking a tentative sip. My phone chimes a familiar tone that notifies me of a text. My eyes are still in its sleepy haze, so I let my hand scruff around for my phone and slowly bring it to my line of sight. A slow smile appears on my face when realization hits that the text is from Kurt. It is a sweet and pure message; just a simple good morning greeting and that I was the first thing he thought of when he awoke.

Of all the glee kids from my high school days, I only kept in contact with Kurt. He lives in Brooklyn and has his own show as a fashion specialist/stylist. From what I know, he's doing well and I always go to him when I need some fashion tips. We manage to visit when we have the free time, but it's not the same as the past. I miss Kurt and all the others, but we all simply lost contact. I know Mercedes has her own contract label and recently finished her second album, but that's all the information I know of. And honestly I yearn to have a glee club reunion, but I doubt that would happen anytime soon. A long and exaggerated sigh escapes my lips.

Next to me, the bell chimes above the door when I start to text a haste response to Kurt. I briefly look up at the new customer, still smiling, before returning to my phone, but only to look up again when the girl continues to openly gawk at me. As a celebrity, I get all sorts of looks if someone notices me, so this is nothing new. I use this opportunity give her a look over. The girl, still holding the door ajar, is wearing large sunglasses, a black trench coat, loose denim jeans, a brown side bag, and a NY Giants cap with a few stray wisps of blonde hair peeking out from underneath it. She locks eyes with me for about 3 seconds before recollecting herself and walk towards the lane of waiting customers. Something about the girl intrigues me and her pomegranate scent smells distinctively familiar. I narrow my eyes at the girl's head as she surveys the list of drinks on the menu on the overhead chalkboard.

My sixth sense is basically screaming at me as I feel a gravitational pull towards the stranger. So like any other occasion of this rare feeling, I began to observe. The girl, with her back to me, is impatiently tapping her foot, whilst her arms remains crossed. She doesn't bother to take off her sunglasses and her mouth forms an irritated scowl. Clearly the girl is in hurry, but her hidden profile is full of grace; a perfect example of a dainty lady. Wow, I should really learn from her.

"Lily! Tall, hazel macchiato with 2 shots of espresso?" barks the stout barista. The girl, with her head held high, grabs the drink and swiftly walks towards me. Well, towards the door.

_Lily?_ I ask myself. I don't know any Lily's. My eyes trail her closely. And then I see it. She's wearing a scarf... _My scarf._ I bolt from my seat and run after her.

If I recall, Daddy wanted to learn how to sew since I was so disappointed of him from the costume he had made me for the Lady Gaga assignment. To make it up to me, he decided to join a sewing group with Dad. For Hanukkah, Daddy gave me a hand knitted scarf stitched of yarn. It was striped, burnt orange and neon green, with gold stars (that barely even looked like stars) in different sizes splattered everywhere. And to make the poor article even more appalling, a baby blue elephant with a dopey grin was sewn at the very bottom, so when it's tied that's the first embroidery stitch anyone sees. For his mighty efforts, I wore the thing as proudly as I could even though I knew I'd be ridiculed so badly. Man, did Santana have a blast. That very day, before glee practice, I had taken it off and left it on the chair. I swear, I did. When I left, I forgot to bring it home with me. I didn't want Daddy to know that I had lost it and I only had worn it once. So the next morning, I went to school early to hunt for my missing scarf. I couldn't find it and Daddy, still healing from all the bloody pokes he gave himself, ended up being disappointed in me. Such a cruel circle it has become.

And here I see it, five years later, around someone else's neck. Her pale skin, in contrast to her black coat, makes the scarf look very painstakingly to the any eye. Still, anyone could have an orange and green, star polluted blobs/blue elephant scarf, so I have sure.

My eyes zeroed in towards the back of the girl's neck. She senses my footsteps, or my intense stare, so she picks up her pace, but I see it. In the same baby blue yarn, a bold, cursive "R" peeks out at me. I stop dead in my tracks. She can't possibly be who I think she is, but all the pieces fit.

I can feel a lump forming in my throat and my palms start to sweat.

"Quinn." I hoarsely whisper. She couldn't hear me of course, but I can't have her running away.

"Quinn!" I half yell half squeak out, but my voice is firm.

Finally, the girl stops walking.

* * *

A/N: All characters belong to Glee, I do not own anything just writing for fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Q

Shiiiiittttt. I draw the word out in my mind as long as I can. I eye my coffee in my right hand. Why couldn't I have gone to some other coffee place? Oh, right it was because my rambunctious four-year old nephew gave me a fifteen dollar gift card for my birthday, which was months ago. He basically wailed on the phone when I told him that I didn't use it yet, and then I got a lengthy chat from his mother for hurting his feelings. Geez, all I wanted was an expensive drink to use up the card, but I never thought I'd run into Rachel Berry.

So what exactly gave me away? I look down at my clothes. Clearly, she can't see my sleep t-shirt that has a dorky green dinosaur on the front. My coat shields that and my sunglasses and hat should cover my face. I ponder some more. Ohhh… the scarf. Facepalm.

I had seen the hideous thing hanging from the chair and like a Good Samaritan; I bought it home with the intention to hand it to her the next morning. But I forgot and I found it draped in the back of my closet when I packed for Yale. Well, in truth I never meant to give it back because nobody should be caught wearing it at all. I suppose I just wanted to keep a piece of Rachel with me when we all left Lima. And here I am, in one of New York City's many downtown streets, caught single-handedly wearing the revolting thing. I exhale a sigh.

What can I do to stall for time? I eye my coffee again. Chug the damn coffee. "Really, Lily/Quinn?" I ask myself as I shuffle my feet. "Ok, 3,2,1…Chug!" I move quickly before I can change my mind, ignoring the "_Careful, the beverage you're about to enjoy is extremely hot_" text.

"Quinn!" I hear for the second time, its edginess noticeably heard. My back is still towards to her all this time, but I don't stop. I tilt my head to gulp down the last few drops; my tongue totally burnt. My hat falls off and my hair spills out since I was too lazy to tie it up properly this morning. Then, I slowly draw the empty cup away from me and gradually look to my right. We're standing in front of Wayne's Music Store with a white Steinway piano on display.

I glance at our reflections on the glass. Rachel stands a few feet behind me with her hands on her hips and one of them clutches my rugged hat. She's frowning at me, yet her eyes are unwavering, silently pleading. I can't get out of this, can I? Ok Q, let's just get this over with. Taking off my sunglasses, I face her fully.

We don't speak; just taking each other in as we stare in awe of the years that changed us. For better or worse, we don't know, but I assume that it's the better for Rachel. She still has that confident stance and the unmistakably aura of a destined star. Well duh, she is a star; she freakin' made it to Broadway since I looked her up from time to time on Google. Rachel looks mature and…gorgeous. She's wearing a white pea coat, black tights, with black leather knee-high boots to finish off the classic ensemble. Her stunning brown locks flow in waves behind her as the wind gently blows. I can only image of what she might think of me. I must look like a shaggy bed head, since I woke up 15 minutes ago. I roll my eyes at myself.

In two quick strides, I stand right in front of her. Rachel's brown eyes widen and flutter at my sudden movement.

"Hi, Rachel. It's been awhile. I'm in a bit of hurry, but it's really good to see you. Hopefully, I'll run into you again." I say in a rush. I hastily grab my hat, shove it on my head and turn away.

"W-wait! Stop, Quinn!" Rachel sputters out, with an added diva stomp.

My name sounds foreign to me and I freeze again. I mean, when was the last time I heard it with this tone? I slowly face her as dread spreads all over me.

Rachel, recovering from shock, looks down and wrings her hands as she clears her throat.

"I want to talk to you. I mean, it's been 5 years. I want to know how you're doing. Please?"

I stare at her features as I slowly comprehend her words. A part of me is curious just as much as she is, but the other half denies the reunion because its time-consuming, dangerous even. I internally groan. If I say no, Rachel would track me down and annoy the heck out of me until I agreed. So I think of alternatives. Right now, I'm unprepared, obviously late, and I'd want to change out of my pajamas before I have a long chat with her.

I lick my lips and unbuckle a side pocket of my bag, my eyes never leaving hers. I take out my phone and scroll through my schedule. As expected, I'm booked for work for two weeks straight. I have no idea how busy she is and I tell her this. She shrugs her shoulders and says she'll make some adjustments.

"Did you see that restaurant next to Starbucks? I've heard some great dinner reviews about it but I never got the chance to check it out. I know it has an original vegan menu so don't freak out." I quickly add, when I saw her brows furrow.

"Meet me there two Sundays from now, the 12th, at 8:30." I say as I type it in my phone. When I finished, I looked at her and smile.

"Well, I'll see you there. If you excuse me, I'm really late." I say as I give Rachel a meaningful look. I know I'm being hasty and rude but I really have to go.

"Are you sure you will? What if you don't come?" she asks me dubiously.

I cock an eyebrow. "Really, Rachel? It's in my schedule. I promise I'll be there. And it's really good to see you again. You look great." I give her another smile and turn to leave. I feel her eyes on me as I turn into the nearest corner.

In two weeks I'll have to face Rachel Berry once again. But right now I really have to pee. Damn that coffee.

* * *

A/N: All characters belong to Glee, I do not own anything just writing for fun.


	3. Chapter 3

R

I've always wondered what _dumbfounded_ might feel like. And now, I think I'd be the perfect definition of said _dumbfounded-ness_.

My feet refuse to move, just like the rest of me, and I try to understand what just happened. It wasn't until a sooty bystander elbowing me forward that I scramble to follow Quinn around the corner. There, it leads to a narrow dark alley where all the store's garbage bins are kept; eww and creepy. I shudder at the sight. No signs of Quinn though.

"What in the world?" I say to no one in particular. I fumble back towards the daylight to think. Ok, maybe not in front of the music store, because Mr. Wayne is standing in front window display glaring me. Talk about awkward…Merp.

I let the swarm of New Yorkers guide me towards the general direction of my apartment. My heart still hasn't subdued its rapid beat and I clutch the left flap of my coat as an attempt to calm it down. Trusting my subconscious to take me home, I let my mind zone out to the mysterious _Quinn Fabray_.

The last time I saw Quinn was when she and Santana came to visit me here when I was trying to survive my first year at Juilliard. At the time, we didn't get to talk much one-on-one because Santana butted in every time I tried to ask Quinn a question. From what I've gathered, Quinn's major was dubbed as a scholarly honor with a concentration in English, since many of her core subjects interested her. Could that mean Quinn is attending graduate school now? She does fit the profile of a makeshift student and she said she was very late to something. Not to mention the very dark rings under her eyes. I hum at the thought.

I'm still clutching my phone since I haven't responded to Kurt yet. Should I tell Kurt that I ran into Quinn? Staring at my cracked screen, I pull up Kurt's number and frown. No, telling Kurt wouldn't really solve my confusion, plus he'd laugh nonstop if I told him Quinn had my scarf and drank her entire cup of coffee in one gulp. Two of which are very un-Quinn like; he'd never believe me.

"I don't get itttt!" I groan towards the sky, my arms are raised above my head. Funny how no one really notices me as I act out my bewilderment. Oye, I of all people should be on a lookout for the paparazzi. The picture of me crawling under the bench in Central Park was not very attractive. Just because I dropped my phone and therefore breaking it, my manager ended up giving me an earful about maintaining modesty.

Finally, I reach the entrance to my apartment and I greet the doorman with a nod. Surely there must be a reason for the name change, I note as I trudge up six flights of stairs. And the way she took forever to face me is another big factor too. Maybe she didn't want to talk to me? No, that can't be so!

I kick open my door and toss my coat on the coach. I drag myself to the window that overlooks the north side of Times Square. Maybe she doesn't want to be my friend! I gasp at the conclusion. I know we weren't the closest of friends during high school, but she said so herself that she wanted to continue our friendship; thus, the round trip ticket and her reasoning for visiting me in the first place.

With my finger, I mark a tally on the foggy window for one of the pros. But I know for a fact that she didn't want her identity be known, so a mark under cons. Maybe the past Quinn is different to the current one because she adopted "Lily" as a name! Could "Lily" be an alter ego? How does that make sense? So then she doesn't want to see me! Ugh, then why did she set up the dinner arrangement? Wait...I got it! She must have felt embarrassed that I caught her with my scarf! On the window's reflection, I watch my lips morph into a smirk.

My tallies had merged into a single crooked line, so I use my fist to erase it all. What I don't understand was how our reactions were so unusual. I clearly had all the right reactions of a typical shocked person. But Quinn? She was cool, content, composed, and commanding. What's with all the "C" words? Shucks, I'm over thinking again. I'll just have to wait till our dinner so I can try to figure out Quinn's demeanor. I let myself fall backwards on the couch and groan loudly. That means I'd be over thinking about the 5 minute tidbit I had with Quinn for two whole weeks.

* * *

The two weeks really came and went to my surprise. Even now, as distant church bells sound for ten o'clock, I'm in a daze of how quickly the dinner ended. I've looked so forward for this that I've practiced my questions in front of my mirror for days. But realizing now, I didn't get to interrogate Quinn as I hoped, but the reverse occurred instead.

Quinn was right about the vegan food though. Along with the tasty cuisine and Quinn's smooth talking, time simply flew by. Well that's because I did all the talking, or for a lack of a better word: answering. I frown as guilt washes over me for being too one-sided.

We're walking down the same street as we did two weeks ago. Tonight she looks absolutely stunning in a white stylish blouse with gold sequins along the neckline, dark skinny jeans to complement, and her hair is tied neatly into a cute bun. She tells me that she knows a shortcut that leads to the main street since we agreed to share a taxi. We're about turn into the same corner at the music store and I freeze. There are a few people around, but something about the alley scares me.

Quinn notice that I wasn't next to her and walk back towards me. She wears a worried expression and looks directly into my eyes.

"Are you ok, Rachel?" she asks me.

"Is there another way? I don't want to go in there." I say as I tighten my grip of my purse.

Quinn's smile is reassuring and she holds out her hand. "Here, take my hand. You'll be safe, I promise. I've gone through many dark places like this before, so I'll lead the way."

I take it and she gently pulls me forward; her confidence eases me at once. We walk in silence and I gaze at our linked hands. Quinn was so vague and evasive. Tonight, Quinn only told stories her about four-year-old nephew, Henry, and her sister living in California. But I so desperately want to hear more about her, not her family! I match my footsteps with hers, even though her strides are larger than mine. That makes me have to hop and I feel like a buffoon. I muffle my giggles with my other hand and Quinn looks over her shoulder at me, her grin intensifying to match her twinkling eyes. We're near to the end of the ally and I can see the dancing headlights from cars that swerve by. "Quinn, I wan-" I start to say, but I'm cut off by a very loud noise that sounds unquestionably close.

Across the street from us, a slim figure dress in pure black points a gun towards the sky and shoots. Everything is happening too fast and I stand rigidly next to Quinn. More shots are being fired and I hear people scream in pain. My eyes dart to see shattered glass of a nearby jewelry store and many people ducking for cover. A man has just robbed the store and he's making an escape. In other words, he's coming towards us with the intention to use the alley as his exit. Quinn's grip on my hand tightens incredibly, but I don't tell her. I can't. My limbs are stiff solid stones since I'm still in denial of what is truly happening. My fear elopes me when I see the man locking his eyes on us, already starting to point the barrel in our direction. For a split second, I see the look in the man's eyes. They show determination, wildness, and hatred. I start to shake violently at the sight and I scream. He fires a shot and then I hear nothing. Deafening silence.

For several agonizing minutes, my ears are ringing and all I can see is blotches of white, but I slowly start to comprehend my surroundings. My heart is pounding away like no other. I feel uneven hot puffs against my neck. Quinn is pushed up against me and my back is against a brick wall.

At the very last second, Quinn was able to react due to my scream. Just as the man pulled the trigger, she was able to push both of us aside, using herself as a shield to block me from the gunshot. She did it so quickly that the back of my head slammed on the wall. I might have a concussion from the sudden impact.

Right now, Quinn stands in front of me, I can't see her face, but I can feel her whole body tremble against mine.

"Quinn?" I ask in a shaky voice, my chest rising and fall rapidly. I turn my head a little to see her face. Quinn's eyes are wide, unblinking, and are fixated at the brick behind me. Her hands are balled into fists and are on either sides of my head. Her expression remains blank as ever and it scares me even more if that's even possible.

"Quinn?" I coax out again as I try to move out from under her. She snaps out of it with a jump and she finally looks at me.

"Don't move, I think you're bleeding" she says quietly, her eyes are grim.

Pain spreads through my left shoulder and the back of my head. I grimace at the pain and my knees starts to buckle. I didn't even realize that I've been crying. Quinn kneels beside me and swiftly takes off her blouse, revealing a white silky tank underneath. The light from a nearby lamppost casts a shadow over half of her face, which is give chills at the eerie sight. She leans in, ties the blouse around my torso and over my arm and then puts pressure upon it to stop the bleeding.

My eyes widen when I see red gradually staining the white of her tank. It's not my blood it's hers.

"Quinn you're hurt. We need to stop your bleeding now." I hurriedly say as pain shoots up my entire left side, but I try to move anyways.

"No." she says firmly and pushes me back down.

The bullet had gone through Quinn's right shoulder and landed into my left. How can she be so calm? She must be in more pain than I am. I stop resisting and I just look at her, confusion shown all over my face. The sirens of an ambulance and her fierce hazel eyes are the last things I see and hear before I faint.

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**A/N:** I hope ya'll had enjoyed reading this. Writing a story is definitely challenging to me, so please send reviews of your thoughts and if you'd want to read more. I have more planned out, but I'm not sure if I can spill it all out correctly. So any review will give me direction and encouragement! Thank you all for taking the time to read this!

All characters belong to Glee, I do not own anything just writing for fun.


	4. Chapter 4

Q

I sit in a far corner chair facing the hospital bed and I watch the nurse aid to the sleeping Rachel. She injects medication into her IV while intently watching the zigzags of Rachel's heartbeat on the monitor screen. The nurse informs me that Rachel's sudden blood lost caused her blood pressure to decline rapidly, and since she has moderate anemia it was likely the cause of her blackout. She tells me that to properly monitor Rachel's recovery the doctors advised for her to have an overnight stay at the hospital.

Rachel had undergone surgery to remove the bullet that landed in her shoulder, which was just a mere four inches away from her heart. The bullet wound is shallow, so the operation went by fairly quickly. Mostly likely, Rachel would have a full recovery in about 3 weeks with nothing more than maybe a circular scar to remember the brutal night by.

I'm not so lucky. That same bullet, a 4.2 mm, went through my scapula and cracked the edge of my clavicle. Technically, I should be in devastating pain, but the same nurse has bandaged me and injected me with some numbing medication, thus I'm content for the time being. I had already picked up my prescription for Valium and so I'm wary for the next few weeks of intense therapy and the pain that comes with it. Now my right arm hangs loosely in a sling, momentarily useless to me. It's comforting to know that I've trained my left arm to just be as dominate and strong as my right, but I'm aware of the potential mistakes if I rely on it too much. Tops, my recovery can last up to three to five months. My boss wouldn't be too happy with that. Most likely I'd be doing to desk work so that my shoulder can completely heal. That isn't something I look forward too, since my true nature belongs on the field.

The nurse rechecks the monitor one last time and scribbles something on the clipboard before setting it down on the side table adjacent to Rachel's bed. She asks me if there is there is anything else she could do when she is finished with Rachel. I tell her my negative and politely thank her as she exits the room, leaving me once more alone with Rachel.

The door is still ajar after the nurse's leave which carries in the televised breaking news to my ears. The reporter informs that a total of 14 personals are either injured or dead from tonight's shoot out. I close my eyes as the frenzied anchor mentions Rachel's name, yet I'm lucky to learn that there isn't a photo of her current state over the media. Evidently, news travels quickly. The report continues on with interviews with uninjured pedestrians who witnessed the screen and with teary family members of the deceased. My ears perk as the reporter warns viewers that the suspect is still on the loose and is highly dangerous.

I sigh deeply and finger the edge of my sling while I drop my head, my wavy locks covering my face. My face falls and I finally let my emotions take over. This wasn't supposed to happen. God, I even promised her that I'd protect her. And look at what happened. If it wasn't my quick reflexes Rachel would have died tonight. I let that thought sink in.

I stand to close the door and slowly pull a chair to sit next to Rachel, my sad eyes not focusing on her face yet. I'm afraid to look at her this close up when she's fragile due to my actions and I'm afraid to see what I've been denying myself all this time.

Why did I ever agree to meet up with Rachel? For two weeks I had pushed this thought out of my mind, but I think I knew the reason along. Looking back to my high school days, I was an open book. My secrets, struggles, humiliations were all public to everyone. All of McKinley High thought I was a lost cause and I searched for ways to repair myself through false relationships, by seeking the title of head cheerleader again, and by sabotaging ways to gain custody of Beth. My efforts failed me completely and I felt as if all hope was lost. But there was one person that saw a different light in me and she stood by side every step of the way while I slowly unravel who Quinn Fabray really was. That person was Rachel. She probably doesn't even realize how much she means to me and I plan to keep it that way.

Rachel's left hand rests upon the blanket and with my fingertips I gently stroke the tips of her knuckles. I thought I had concealed my past and my attached feelings away, leaving that side of me hidden forever, but that day in Starbucks, I knew that high school Quinn still is very much alive within me. It's a blazing fact that I am still in love with Rachel Berry.

My heavy heart tightens at the realization. With my chosen lifestyle now, I'm so lonely and miserable. And the thought of seeing Rachel again ignited me to think that maybe things can be different. That maybe I don't have to be so alone all the time. But it was my own selfish desires that gave Rachel an injury. My eyes glisten as I continue to caress Rachel's hand and I slowly lift my gaze to scan her angelic face.

"Please forgive me." I say, my voice cracking with each syllable. I squeeze her hand tenderly one last time and I gradually bring it to my lips. My heart breaks a thousand times over just like that day when I parted from her to return to Yale. Just like five years ago, I experience the same overwhelming hole in my chest and it radiates to the tips of my fingers. My feelings for her will never change but I can't put her in any more danger. So I'll do what I've done to my past. I'll vanish and this time I'll never look back. This is for the best.

A few minutes after I regain my composure, I turn to leave Rachel and exit the hospital. I know she'll be in safe hands now and even safer when she's away from me. It doesn't take me long to hail cab to take me home. Once I'm there, I stealthily walk into my room that's engulfed in darkness. It's not until I sit at my desk and switch on a dull lamp that hundreds upon hundreds of photographic mug shots stare back at me, but I know who I'm looking for. Mitchell McMurry. I peel off his photo and grab my handgun from my desk, checking the loaded bullets as I leave my apartment once again.


	5. Chapter 5

**AeonUS****: **Eekk I know they're short! I'm sorry! But this chapter and the next are about 7-10 pages, so yay! Thank you for pushing me! Hopefully, this isn't too wordy. :P

**2gleeky****: **You're on the right track! And yes! I love her too! 3

**Guest:** Thank you for the review! And I'll post another chapter in a few days! ^^

**Polux: **I like that you're thinking! Follow Rachel as she tries to figure it out! :D

**CR00**: You'll have to wait for Chapter 6! I hope you'll like it. And thank you for your review! (I actually wrote chapter 6 before this one) I'll post it in a few days. :)

**Mythic-lionheart:** I'm very sad that I don't have that many, but its ok. I thought about giving up on it; however I'm suffering from a mild case of insomnia so here you go! More chapters! :3

Thank you for reading my work! I enjoyed writing it even though I'm sure that there are many errors. I apologize in advance. A little spoiler, chapter 6 is definitely funnier and more unexpected than this one so stay tuned! Again all characters belong to Glee, I'm just writing for fun.

* * *

R

"_I can't believe this happened to my little Star!"_

"_Don't worry, Hiram. We'll take care of her once she wakes up. We'll take her back home to Lima and feed her homemade soups and watch countless musicals together, just like we did when she had the flu."_

"_But I feel so guilty, Leroy! Remember all those times I've teased her when she thought she had a concussion when really she had a headache and now she really does have one!"_

"_It's not your fault that this happened. Our baby was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. And we're both relieved that she only suffered minor injuries."_

I recognize my fathers voices as each word becomes clearer. Everything still feels hazy but I slowly comprehend the state that I'm in. My eyelids are heavy and I fail trying to open them. I want to comfort my dads that I'm but my limbs feel paralyzed. A rough hand is in one of mine so I focus on twitching one of my fingers. It worked because I hear rustling near me.

"Rachel? She's waking up! I'll go get the nurse!" I hear my boyfriend, Mason, say. His voice sounds different from the last time I've heard it. I tried to think back when I heard it last but that hurts too much.

After many struggles, I lift my lids to see three faces and a fourth quickly merging into my line of vision. My fathers, my boyfriend, and my manager are inches away from me but I my eyes aren't focused on any of them.

"Excuse me, please. I need to see the patient." Four heads quickly withdraw and I see a petite nurse. She approaches me and fiddles with something on my left shoulder. Then she checks the back of my head and I feel her hands tentatively brush towards my temple. She picks up the clipboard and flips through a series of paperwork, nodding along the way.

"Ms. Berry? Looks like you had suffered a small concussion, but no worries. There aren't any damages and you'll have a quick recovery in no time. It says here that you'll need to finish this IV drip and another shot of antibiotics before you can discharge. I'll have that ready for you soon." She steps back and says something to Daddy and I look up towards the ceiling, their voices coming in and out.

Someone squeezes my hand and I turn to see Mason. His blue eyes show weariness and he moves to push some hair out of my face. I'm happy that he's here along with my dads and manager, but I can't hide the fact that the one person I want to see isn't here.

"Honey, how are you?" Mason asks me as he cups my cheek. It takes me some time to find my voice after clearing my throat some many times, but I tell him my head hurts. He hands me a water bottle and helps me with my pillows so I can sit up. Daddy returns and I see dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Little star, the nurse says that you might be in shock after what happened, but we'll be here to help you recover physically and mentally however long it might take." I can only nod because it's true, I am in shock.

My manager, who has patiently been waiting all this time comes near to my bed. I know that look; she has something she needs to tell me. I focus my eyes on her and she cowers a little.

"Listen Rachel, I know you've just woken up but we need to start thinking of what to say to the press. It's all over the news now and there are paparazzi standing outside of the hospital." Anna scrambles to say.

"Also, _Dateline_ wants to know if you would like to do an interview next week and the DA's office wants to know if you want to file a lawsuit against Mitchell McMurry."

All the information is coming too fast and I stunned from what Anna is telling me. But I hear Dad asks her the same question that I anxious to voice.

"They captured the murderer already?" Anna doesn't answer but simply hands him and me a New York Times newspaper. Splashed on the cover headlines are the words "_Murderer, Mitchell McMurry, Captured and Heist Returned_." I scan the article and I draw a hand up to my cover mouth after reading a few sentences.

_This morning, Mitchell McMurry, who has a history of robbery and assault, was found handcuffed to a lamppost in front of the very jewelry store he had robbed. On his neck, wrists, and fingers were the necklaces, bracelets, and rings he had stolen. The front his shirt was pinned with the remaining jewelry, diamond earrings and gemstone brooches. McMurry was unconscious and he had a dislocated left shoulder when the police found him. No other evidence is found about the mysterious person who captured McMurry, but prosecution of his case is set to undergo later this week. He is accountable for killing three people and injuring eleven others who were at the scene, one of which is Broadway actress, Rachel Berry. McMurry is charged with assault, battery, felony, and first degree murder. _

My eyes are still staring at the photograph of handcuffed bedazzled McMurry when I hear Mason speak.

"Can't we wait for this later? Rachel just woke up and we don't want to stress her out any further."

"I can't, this needs to be addressed now and DA's office has called me every thirty minutes to see if she's awake. They need an answer now and the quicker we get something out of Rachel the faster McMurry can have his sentence."

"Why do they need Rachel's response? Why can't they ask the other victims? It's because she's famous isn't it?" Dad asks as they gang up on poor Anna.

"That's precisely so! We need to figure out a way for Rachel's sake because we all know that they want to use her and-"

"Stop!" They all look at me and the argument drops immediately.

"I need to use the restroom. Can someone please send in the nurse for me?" I ask as they all exchange worried glances to each other. I know they need me but I can't handle this now, not after knowing what happened to McMurry.

One by one they all exit just as the nurse returns with a syringe in hand. I wait for her to inject the antibiotics into my arm, thinking up ways to phrase my next words.

"Was there a blonde girl in my room earlier?" I ask her first, aware that my mind is bombarded with many eager questions.

"We don't keep tabs on the visitors here but I didn't see anyone in your room when I clocked in this morning. The ER nurse that tended to you was on call all of last night and early this morning, so I doubt she remembers anything of that sort." I feel bad for that poor ER nurse.

"Then can you tell me if there is a victim with a gunshot wound to the shoulder here?" I press on.

"Under the regulations of HIPPA, I can't tell you that kind of information because that goes against the patient's privacy." The nurse robotically answers back.

"Well, can you see if any of the patient's names are "Quinn" from last night's incident?"

The nurse looks at me and understands that I'll continue with renewed vigor each time she declines my questions.

"You know they'll release the names on the news anyways so you can tell me that much at least." I reason further.

The nurse sighs rather loudly and takes out a small tablet from her pocket of her scrubs. She tells me that they scan the written reports to each other so that one of nurses can transfer them into the database. She scrolls for a while and I'm nervously biting my lower lip.

"Nope, none of the patients are named Quinn."

"Okay, can you look up the name Lily?" I ask eagerly, already assuming that Quinn has dropped her real name for a different one.

"Yes, I saw that name a moment ago… Give me a minute… The doctor's handwriting is very sloppy but there is a Lily." She tilts her tablet to read the name better. "Lily Bayer."

"Can you tell me if she's alright? Can she still use her shoulder? When was she discharged? Did she have surgery? What's her condition?" I ask as I watch the nurse nod her head.

"I'm sorry Ms. Berry, but I can't tell you that. Again, we have to keep the patient's information private for their sake." The nurse says sadly.

I slump back into my pillows and tilt my head to look at the ceiling again. I mumble my thanks to her as my vision become blurry. Overcoming with emotion, a few tears spill over the brim of my tired eyes and I hear the nurse clear her throat. She must feel pity for me.

I turn my head to her as I watch her step forward while peeking over her shoulder. Through the blinds of my window I see the shadows of my dads and Anna gesturing to each other. Mason is pacing back and forth not too far away from the three.

The nurse leans closer to me and in voice no louder than a whisper she starts to talk.

"I'll tell you this, Ms. Berry. Earlier, a couple of men from the DA's office came here to your room to check up on you and I overheard them talking. I only heard a few sentences but they said a piece of evidence is missing. A white blouse. I don't know if this is useful but it's something to think about. You didn't hear any of this from me." She winks as she straightens her posture.

I blink vigorously at her and she gives me a small smile. "Now shall I help you use the restroom?"

After she helps me use the restroom, the nurse takes out the IV from my arm and instructs me of the medication I must take for my shoulder. She then tells me that I'm free to go and I tell her my many thanks. Shortly after, Daddy helps me complete the necessary paperwork to discharge the hospital. Mason and Anna continue to argue over the best possible way to transport me back to my apartment. They finally agree to use the back entrance hoping that there aren't paparazzi there if they pretend to be suppliers of an inventory. Anna was able to gain the hospital's consent to use that entrance so I hope the plan follows through. I try to give equal input but after taking my first dose of medication, I begin to feel drowsy. They notice my droopiness and Mason tells me that they will take of me. I trust his words and to carry me safely home.

* * *

Later that evening, I wake from my long slumber to a nudge on my leg. It takes me a minute to recollect but I wake to see Mason near me. I think of how strange to see him this much in a day but it's very nice to have his company.

I met Mason when he played my romantic interest in the last play we were in. We've been dating for about six months, but I always thought our relationship isn't as serious as it should because he's so distant. I can't really blame him since he is also among Broadway's upcoming stars so it's understandable that he's busy most of the time. I try not to let his lack of presence affect me so much, but I'm glad that he's here now.

"Hi, baby. You're supposed to take some medicine now and eat a meal with it so I'm sorry for waking you up." He gently coos in my ear.

He helps me up and we slowly make our way to my dining table. Dad is already sitting there and I see Daddy holding what looks to be my soup. I sit in my chair and immediately slump as I fumble with my spoon, cautious of my injured shoulder. Eating ever so slowly, I listen as they tell me that Anna has asked for my courtesy from the press so that I could have time to recover without unnecessary drama. The production of my next play has been postponed for another month so that I have time for fully recover. The news relieves me but only until Dad says that I'll be doing the interview with _Dateline_. Seeing my reaction, he quickly tells me that I can always decline if I decide so in the future.

"What did you say to the people at the DA's office?" I ask, dreading their response. After learning about the missing evidence, I'm sure I'll be interrogated since it was initially wrapped around my body. McMurry had suffered an injury too, so his justice needs to be accounted for, even if he is a murderer. I hope they'll leave his capturer alone since they already have the man responsible for the murders and robbery.

"We told them to wait a couple days until you regained some strength. They gave us their number so that you can tell them personally if you want to be a part of the McMurry case."

"Okay, have Anna call them and say that I don't want to file lawsuit. Tell them about my concussion and that I've forgotten everything that happened. That part is true, because I did forget. And with three deaths, I'm sure the judge will give him the worst possible sentence anyway." I say quickly, even if it parts of it was a lie. "Also, can you tell Anna to cancel the interview? I'm not really in the mood to be in the spotlight so soon."

"That seems best. We don't want you to be in the tabloids over this. Sure, it will be in headlines for awhile but it's best for the press to leave you alone." Dad agrees as he starts to dial Anna's number.

Mason watches me as I continue to eat. I know he's worried just as much as my dads and Anna are, but I'm lost in my thoughts. I tell them all of my usual, "I'm fine" and "I'm just tired" and excused myself to my room. They pass off my lack of response as shock so they leave me alone.

And for the next week I refused to leave my bedroom. Daddy thinks I'm still in shock and he's worried that I'm suffering with PTSD, but I tell him my negative each time. In fact, the incident doesn't affect me at all; it's _someone _that I've been researching and slightly obsessive over.

Mason had to return to work after a couple of days so I didn't spend quality time with him as he hoped for. I told him that I wanted to be alone and simply thanked him for his generosity when he took care of me. My dads stayed for a week when I declined their offer to take me to Lima. I enjoyed their company, but like with Mason I neglected them and spent the greater majority of my time in my room. After reassuring them many times, they eventually believed me and returned to Lima.

Currently, my room is a mess since I've been cooped up in it for so long (and with copious amount of empty Starbucks cups on the floor), but I have a valid reason so. I think Quinn is responsible for McMurry's capture. Obviously, I can't tell anybody of this theory so I decided to research on Quinn's whereabouts alone. I've gotten a few more calls from the DA's office and each time I tell them the same alibi: my concussion rendered me to never knowing who my rescuer was. They seem to buy it so the mystery of the lost evidence is a lost cause. Same is true with McMurry's capturer. As each day passes, I feel more and more certain that Quinn was definitely involved, but where is she?

I never asked for her number nor her for address, so she could be anywhere in New York. But that's the only information I have of her. She's in New York City… and that her alternate name is Lily Bayer. On my wall is a makeshift timeline of Quinn's life after high school. Yes, I admit that it's a little dorky to create such a thing, but placing Quinn's life in chronologically order helps me with my thinking process. After staring it for awhile I concluded that I would need to call Shelby and that is something that I'm not looking forward too.

Quinn isn't the type to neglect Beth, so I'm sure that Shelby has to be among the few to have contact with Quinn. I search for my phone in my filthy room and only to find it in one my empty coffee cups. Guilt washes over me, when I learn that Kurt has called me over ten times. I reassure myself to eventually call him back, but I think it might be empty promises, so I add a blaring post it to next to my timeline as a reminder.

After many deep breaths and self encouragements, I dial Shelby's number. She answers it on the fourth ring and I stutter out my name. She's surprised to be in the receiving end of my call and she quickly asks me about my health. I tell her that my wound is starting to heal and she suggests me to put some E oil on it.

"E oil is like a miracle for scars. If you happen to have a scar, just put some it on and it'll vanish in no time!"

"Thank you, Shelby. I'll buy some the next time I'll go shopping. Listen, I have a question for you." I ask graciously. "Do you have Quinn's number?" My heart starts to beat harder because this might be my first lead in finding her whereabouts.

"Quinn? Oh, she calls Beth and me every month to see how we're doing. In truth I don't have her number and the caller ID always shows that her calls are from a private line. Is something wrong with Quinn?"

"Oh no no no, nothing's wrong. I'm just wondering what some of my high school friends are up too, that's all." Not wanting to press the matter further, I tell her my thanks and end the call. A dead-end. I let out a measly sigh.

I follow my timeline and decide to call Yale's admissions office. Calling Yale doesn't give me much hope, but I'll give them a try anyway. After a series of options the robotic voices asks me, my call is finally transferring to someone who has an actual brain.

"Yale's admissions office, this is Michael speaking. How may I help you?" A male voice asks from the other line.

"Y-yes, hello. Um. I-I'm searching for a student that had graduated from Yale two years ago and I'm wondering if you might know her whereabouts."

"We're the admissions office. We don't have information like that, nor would we give it out so freely." He fires back.

"Yes, I'm aware, but I'd like to know if there's any documentation of where she might be. Maybe there is recognition that might mention of her current profession?" I try reasoning.

"I see your point, but may I ask for your explanation to find this particular post-student?"

"I-uh. I would like to find my long-lost cousin." I answer lamely.

"Again, ma'am. _We're the admissions office _not Ancestry dot-com." He says annoyance laced in his voice. I flinch at his sassiness.

"Please, sir. I found out who my great great grandmother is and when I learned that I have a cousin, I just have to find her. Please understand that I do not have many family members left and so finding her location is very important to me. Will you please help me?" The words fly out before I can stop them. For awhile I hear nothing but silence.

"Fine, what your cousin's name?"

"Lucy Quinn Fabray."

"While I search for her records, who do I have the pleasure talking to today?" Crap. I look frantically around to think up of a name. My eyes land on my lip balm that is balancing on a zarf.

"Eva Cado." I say, closing my eyes right after the words slips out my mouth. There's another pause, this time longer than the first. I'm doomed. He'd never believe me.

"We at Yale will not be victims of a prankster so is if this is a joke I recommend you-"

"No, please, I need to find her." I cut his angry rant. I hope he hears the desperation in my voice.

"Fine, don't tell me your name. I'll just tell you any information we have of Ms. Fabray so that you and I will be along our way. I have her application when she first applied to Yale, her transcript, and it looks she does have a few recognitions from our professors. Your _cousin_ was an honor student with a 4.0 GPA. She doubled majored in International Affairs and Criminology with a minor is Psychology. She was in the Forensics Club, Linguistics Club, Russian Club, and the Arabic Club. She was a part of intramural sports and competed in firearm shooting, rowing, rock wall climbing, and tae kwon do. There's recognition that she single-handedly gathered enough evidence to place one of the professors into trial and then ultimately into jail."

I gasp at the news. That is something that I wasn't expected at all.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Well, _Ms. Cado,_ We're the admissions office, not Google. Your cousin seems to be a lot _smarter_ than you are, so maybe you should ask _her_ when you find her. Good luck." I hear the line go dead. I frown at my phone. He didn't have to be _that_ mean, but still, I learned valuable information about Quinn.

I take sooty Michael's advice and search for Quinn's name and the trial on Google. No matter how many words I type in, none of the links regarding her follow though. They each display an error or that the page isn't available. I'm disappointed but I'm not too worried about it. I add more information to Quinn's timeline and stare at it some more.

I'm going to find you Quinn. No matter how long it takes or even if I lose my sanity, I vow to find you. And when I do, all Hell will break loose.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you for reading my work. I was a bit goofy when I wrote it so I hope ya'll laugh. Please write a review to let me know what you think! Enjoy! All characters belong to Glee, I'm just writing for fun!

* * *

Four months later

Q

Ahh..Finally, an evening off! I can't wait to just kick back and just watch countless reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S., maybe crack open a beer and eat pizza! Today was yet another tiring day but gosh, when was the last time I night off? I've been wary of Starbucks ever since the last encounter but since my boss decided to give us free rounds of coffee, I can't really say no to that can I? Free coffee and the night off, wow I just know that tonight will be so relaxing! I take a long swing of it and smile happily.

My door bell rings and I glance at my digital watch.

8:37 PM, right on time as always. My regular delivery guy always arrives at the same time each week so I know I can always count on him. I still have my socks on so I do an impressive slide on my hallway tiles and crash land into the door, giggling along the way. Without looking into the peep-hole (because I'm certain it's the pizza guy), I swing my door open wide.

Who I'm supposed to see is a scruffy, greasy, flour covered teenager that I see every Friday, but I certainly do not. My eyes bulge and I'm faced with no other than Rachel Berry. It's been four months since I last seen her.

Poop. Crap. Holy Shit.

Before Rachel can even open her mouth, I quickly shut my door on her and bolt all of my locks along the way. Just like that, my appetite is gone and my hands start to get clammy. With my back to the door, I push myself against the wood and my chest is heaving rather rapidly.

This can't be happening. Rachel is not standing outside my door. I lift two fingers and place it over the raging pulse on my neck. My heartbeat has doubled and I try to reason that I'm hallucinating. I'm certain that my coworkers have put crack cocaine in my coffee. Yes, that's it.

The door bell rings again but this time Rachel doesn't seem to stop pushing it. Shit, I'm not hallucinating. Tell me to jump off a 100 mph train, ask me to leap in front of a man-eating alligator, or dare me to fight the deadliest gangster on Earth; I can do it without ever feeling nervous or scared. But with Rachel standing just a few inches away from me? My heart is beating quicker than a hummingbird's wings.

"I didn't come all across town just to stand outside your door! You better open it!" I hear Rachel say behind me. She stops ringing my doorbell and is thumping her fists on my door. She has no idea how close her pounding on my thin wooden frame is to my head.

"Do you know how LONG it took me to find you? Do you know HOW frustrated I am of you? And you should have told me it's spelt with an 'A-R' not with an 'E-R'. Oh, that's right you NEVER tell me anything! I thought it was 'Bayer' like the medicine, but nooooo, it's 'BA-YAR'! And then I thought well where's the fucking 'F', ehh? You didn't think I can rearrange letters and figure it out? But then I found out that the fucking 'F' IS there all along, 'cause it's in your fucking middle name! LILY F. BAYAR! YOU OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!" Rachel even growls at the end of her rant. At this point I'm certain that Starbucks is cursed. I'm never getting a drink from there ever again.

"OOhh, I wonder what the 'F' stands for!" I hear a curious male voice say.

Of course the pizza delivery would come at this moment. I groan and close my eyes, wishing that I can be anywhere else except here. If she's cursing now I know that's she's within minutes to losing it.

"And who the _hell_ are you?"

"Kyle. I'm here to deliver pizza!"

There is an awkward silence until Rachel starts noisily thumping on my door again.

"Your_ fucking_ pizza is here! Open up! Don't you dare make me belt out 'Don't Rain On My Parade'! I swear I'll do it and then half of New York will be here in no time!" She's on the verge to yelling now. My door frame rattles from her thumping… or from her voice. I can't really tell.

"Yay! I want to hear you serenade Lily! I should have thought of that! I've tried asking her out, 'cause you know she's like super hot, but she always says she's interested in someone else… Oh heyyy, could_ you_ be the one who she's interested in?" Kyle asks ecstatically.

Oh. My. God.

I can almost see Rachel's wtf face. She inhales sharply at the question, but then recovers quickly.

"_W-What_?! I just want to her open the _fucking_ door!" Rachel basically screams.

"Well while you're at it, could you please ask her to return my tool box?" A third deeper male voice asks.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" I hear Rachel harshly question for the second time. She clearly isn't thinking about her manners.

"Mr. Humphrey. I really need my screwdriver since my Dumpty keeps falling off the cat tower every time he sits on it. I really need to fix the side-wall and I can't really do that without my tools." I hear my estranged next door neighbor say smartly to the two. I bet that odd man is probably cuddling his equally odd egged shaped cat.

Another awkward silence, but this time it's broken by a snicker. I raise my eyebrows in surprise when I hear it quickly escalate to full-blown boisterous laugher.

"Kyle? Could you _please_ enlighten us what's so funny?" Rachel asks in an annoyed tone, her patience running thinner by the minute.

"Ahaha! Pfffffph… Mr. Humphrey?...Haha HA!.. Did you just say your cat's name is Dumpty?! Puahaha!" Kyle barely gets the words out since he's laughing so hard. "And ...haha...and… your cat keep on falling off the wall? I'm sorry but that shit is funny! Ahahaa!" He sucks in gulps of air as he tries to suppress is laughter. Then I hear him say, "W-wait. Is _Dumpty_ broken?" There was a long pause and the cat actually meows. As if he knows he's the subject of the question.

"Well…Y-yes. He has broken both tibias and an ulna, but that's because he has brittle bones! I h-have you know that I'm very much offended, boy!" I hear Mr. Humphrey spat out. Kyle's laugher becomes even more hearty…or manic.

I look to the ceiling and mumble a silent prayer even though I'm not expecting much. Everything and _everyone_ has gone mad outside my very own front door. Maybe they've forgotten that I'm even here. I've jumped out of flying planes before, so I can defiantly climb out the window and get away from this. Sixteen stories isn't _that_ high because I'm-

"QUINN. _FUCKING._ FABRAY!"

I open my door so quickly that I see three faces visibly flinch.

"WHAT did I tell you about taking our Great GREAT Grandmother's name in _VAIN_?!" I question the startled Rachel, my voice stern and angry. Actually, it matches Rachel's intensity perfectly.

"I see you guys met my cousin dearest. She's my _fifth_ cousin to be exact. We're Jewish cousins!" I scramble to say, spewing out lies to sound a least bit truthful. I cringe internally as I give Rachel an awkward side hug, hoping that my words seem plausible.

I turn to the teary eyed teenager and swiftly take my pizza box from his shaking arms. He still hasn't quite recovered from his laughing attack.

"Thank you, Kyle. Take this and please keep the change. I'm feeling _awfully_ generous today. I'll see you next Friday, but next time, please don't be so late. And in case you're still wondering, it's Faye." I stuff my twenty-dollar bill in his hand and gracefully turn to Mr. Humphrey.

"Here's your tool box, kind sir. Thank you for letting me borrow it and I _sincerely_ apologize for not returning it to you sooner." I curtly say as I give him a cheeky smile.

I grab Rachel's arm and yank her forward into my apartment, slamming my door on the two flabbergasted men.

Rachel and I stare at each other while as we both hear two voices tamper off. Why does this seem so familiar? Just like four months ago, my chest does that thing again. It's like it understands faster, better before my mind can even register, like it's already pinpointing that the girl who stands before me is the one. My soul mate. For years, the indescribable hollow hole inside of chest was a daily aching reminder that I would never see her again. I couldn't. I wouldn't. Shouldn't. But just like that, the hole shrinks and my chest comfortably swells and squeezes with warmth more than I can ever imagine. Why? It's because she's here. She's the one that completes me and I can die happy by simply thinking about it.

Rachel's gaze lingers on my face and after a little while her eyes start to move down, taking in the rest of me. They land on my legs.

Shit. When was the last time I shaved? I feel my ears get hot.

"Quinn? Are you wearing tube socks?" she asks me in a quiet voice, no traces of the angry tone she had shown just seconds ago.

I look down at my attire. I'm wearing a very unattractive brown collar shirt with half of it untucked in my shapeless khaki shorts and tan socks that cover a third of my shins. My hair is in a disheveled ponytail and with most of it loose in thick strands around my face. I'm in a UPS uniform. Now I feel my cheeks get hot.

"Uh... I can explain." I stammer out. I actually have no idea how to begin.

"Please do…_Yolanda._" Rachel replies as she squints at my name tag. It's defiantly really hot in here.

I bring a hand up to my face and act like I'm rubbing my eyes, but in truth I'm trying to hide my embarrassment. This is defiantly not the night I had imagined.

"Let's go into the living room. I'm hungry so I'm going eat my pizza while I try to sort this out." I say, attempting to make this situation less awkward, which is also rekindling my hunger oddly enough.

I lead her to the living room and she sits on my couch. I position myself on the floor across from her, hiding behind my coffee table so my gruesome clothes aren't that visible.

"First of all, never I mean NEVER say my name in public ever again. You got to promise me that because there's a viable reason why I changed my name. But before I go on even farther, please tell me how you found it out." I say all of this to my pizza box because I'm not ready to look into those expressive browns yet. Honestly, I'm surprised that she figured out my whole name and since she did, it's evident that I'm not covering my tracks very well.

Rachel inhales deeply ready to answer but stops and makes face at my pizza when I lift up the lid.

"Geez, Quinn. Did you kill a whole pig?!" She exclaims as she focuses her glare on my triple meat lover's pizza.

"It's a triple meat lover's pizza. What did you expect? Ummm…" I fumble around my on messy table to unearth something that I know is conveniently there. "Here's an orange, you can eat it if you want." I offer lamely to the devastated Rachel. She takes it and finger the bumpy surface while I wait for her to continue.

"First I asked the nurse, but she wouldn't tell me anything other than your name. I had my manager look up all the 'Lily Bayer's, with an 'E-R' in New York City. I just want to let you know that there are thirty-seven 'Lily Bayer's and I tracked them all down. That took me about 2 months to complete. I was so desperate for your address that I almost had my manager break laws to steal your insurance information." Rachel pauses momentarily as she starts to spin the orange in the palm of her hand.

"But then I thought of something else. I had my manager look up Fran Fabray in California. It was a gamble because I know she most likely undergo her husband's surname but we were lucky to find her wedding licenses. I called her number and decided to ask her personally for your address."Her eyes flicker up to mine, causing my heart to stop. Annnnd causing me to mistakenly guide my pizza to my chin instead of my mouth. Thank goodness Rachel didn't notice it.

"You have no idea how hard that was. The first time I called, she hung up on me when I mentioned your name, but I left lengthy voicemails every single day after that. I spoke of Henry and told stories about him from what I gathered that day when we had our dinner. I plead, I begged, I told her I'd do anything just to know your address. That went on for another 2 months and then, one day she finally answered her phone. She asked me a series of tedious questions about how I knew you and my reason why I needed to see you so bad. And so I told her. I told her that I want to thank the person that saved my life."

I place my half eaten slice down and closed my eyes, letting her words sink in. Fran is the only person that knows my true identity. I had her sworn that she wouldn't tell anyone about what I do for a living unless there is a valid reason to do so. Fran must have trusted Rachel enough to give her my address. Or Rachel was wearing her out. It's probably the latter, knowing Rachel.

"People are dangerous and they can track me down if they found out my name. It's in the handbook that I had to change it. The database was presumably generated to randomly pick out my new name so don't blame me for its resemblance to my real one. Look, I have to protect my sister, Henry, Beth and Shelby." I say carefully. _And I have to protect you._

Rachel starts to question but she's cut off by my overly loud phone and we both jump at the sound.

I shuffle around on my table again and answer it, while gesturing at Rachel to hold her thought.

"Bayar." I say. After hearing the stupid ringtone, I know who it is.

"You need to come with me tonight. We have a lead in the Batson case and I know that your eyes are better observant than mine." My partner, Scott, says on the other line.

"You can't be serious. It's my night off! And technically I don't return until another 3 work days!"

"Bayar, if you can drive a UPS truck, you can defiantly do this. You don't even need to lift a finger. Plus, everybody knows you took on McMurry single-handily. Punny, ain't it?" He laughs at his own stupid joke.

"Scott, I have…." I quickly peek at Rachel over my shoulder. She mouths something to me and I pretend not to understand her.

"I have company tonight!" I say in a hush tone, my eyes lingering on the overly dramatic Rachel, who is flailing her arms since I refuse to communicate with her. She even manages to fit in the orange as part of her nonverbal monologue.

"Well, bring 'em along the ride!"

"What?! No way! She doesn't know!"

"We can make up something and play pretend. Come on, it's going to be boring and a _little _company wouldn't be too bad now would it?" Scott suggests playfully.

I pause and try to weigh out his reasoning. What Rachel doesn't know won't hurt her.

"Hurry up, Bayar. We need to hustle now." He says with his stupid annoying pushy voice.

"Ugh, fine. Pick me up in a few." I end the call and hastily enter my bedroom, knowing that he had pressured me to agree. Stupid Scott.

"What's going on? Will you please just tell me already?" Rachel calls out across the living room.

I know I owe her an explanation but I still can't tell her and now is not a good time since I have an assignment to complete. I quickly change out of my UPS gear and put on black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a matching blazer. I stuff my feet into uncomfortable dress shoes while retying my sloppy ponytail.

"Rachel, I have to work. You have to come with me so that I can take you home." I say as I throw my "things" in my handbag, just in case I need them. I walk out of my room and see that Rachel is standing with her arms crossed in front her of chest.

"What? No, I'll stay here until you come back. I just told you how long it took for me to find you and ever since I did, you didn't tell me a thing! This isn't fair! And it's defiantly not fair that you can look like that in matter of seconds!" She counters as the famous Rachel Berry pout surfaces on those cute lips. She doesn't know it, but I melt at the sight.

I ignore the last tidbit of her comment. "You can't stay here because I don't know how long I'll be out." I say as I cast a glance to my watch. "Its 8:53 and sometimes I don't return home until pass midnight." I pause for effect. "And just to let you know, I sometimes hear voices when I'm here alone." I falsely tell her, hiding my smirk when I see her brows furrow from fear.

"F-fine. But you promise you'll tell me one day?"

I take a deep breath. I don't like making promises that I can't hold accountable for but I'll take in consideration of the "one day" offer.

"Sure. Now we have to go!" I push her out, flipping off the light switches and locking my door as we exit my apartment.

I lead her to the elevator and we momentarily listen to the awful music as we slowly venture down sixteen stories.

"Thank you, by the way." Rachel says, almost bashfully.

"It was only an orange, Berry." I say as my face remains nonchalant; it's so fun to tease her sometimes.

"What? No! Well, sure thank you for the orange, but I want to thank you for pushing me out the way that night. I know you saved my life while risking yours and I know that you suffered more than I did!" She hotly says back at me. Then Rachel ducks her head and looks at her shoes as she alternates her weight from one foot the other. I raise an eyebrow when I watch her inch closer to me. She hesitates a little but she wraps her arms around me and nuzzles into the side of my arm. She gives a better side hug than the pansy one I gave awhile ago.

"And I want to sincerely apologize for my behavior. My frustration has been bottled up for so long and I just lost it. I'm sorry that I said your name like that." I give her a little pat on her arm that's around my torso as a forgiven acceptance and she releases her hold on me, watching my reaction in the process.

I don't say anything but I give a side glance, hoping that maybe she can see something else in my eyes. Once the elevator opens, we head to the entrance doors and a black Sedan with heavy tinted windows is parked at the curb.

I turn to Rachel and say, "Remember I'm not Quinn, I'm Lily Bayar. Okay?" She nods her head and continues to follow me as I open the car door to let her in.

"Whoa! You're not who I think you are, are you?" Scott says as he watches Rachel fasten her seatbelt in the back seat.

I settle in the passenger seat and turn to my partner. "Cool it Scott, you have no idea how many violations you're breaking. Article 45 Sector 87 says that-"

"You're so anal sometimes, Bayar. Who even reads that stuff anyways? Other than you, of course." He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I have the urge to punch his stupid face.

"You need to take her home so we can _do_ what we're supposed to do. _Our job_."

"And I will, _after _we complete it."

"Scott, do you really need my help? I have a feeling that you don't."

"I just miss my partner in crime and four months is lonnng time, that's all."

"You're pushing it, Scott!" I angrily counter.

Rachel, who's been silently throughout my exchange with Scott, clears her throat.

Scott turns around and faces her fully, plastering a smile on that stupid face of his. He draws out is right hand to Rachel.

"Lane Scott. It's an honor to meet you, Ms. Berry. Now I have a question for you. Would you rather hang out with us for awhile or should I safely take you home?"

She politely shakes his hand and says to my horror, "I would like to accompany you both only if you'll promise me to take me safely home after?"

"Your wish is my command, only if you'll sign me an impressive autograph."

"I'd be happy to oblige, Lane, only if you'd tell me why you two must work at this ungodly hour. "

"You bet I will, only if you'd sing one of your-"

"For God's sake, can we please just get this over with?" I slam my hands on the dashboard, accepting the fact that Rachel is tagging along. Scott's right, I am anal.

They end their playful quarrelling and Scott finally puts the car in drive.

"What do you know so far?" I ask as I strictly focus on the road.

"We got an anonymous tip that Batson is communicating with Jarvis, so tonight we need to see if that's true." Scott tells me, his voice deadly serious.

The twenty-minute drive is silent and I'm surprised. Rachel hasn't asked a single question. I'm starting to feel suspicious of her thoughts. I wonder if I scared her from my outburst earlier, but I'm slightly relieved that she isn't questioning me.

With the lights already off, Scott parks the car at the corner of an expensive looking house.

"Okay Rachel, here's your chance to help us out. See that beige brick house two down from this one? If you see anything, let us know." Scott carefully instructs.

I roll my eyes. Usually, anonymous tips like these never follow though. This is going to be a long night.

I'm bored after ten minutes of staring at the gnomes on the front lawn so I shifted my gaze to the car side mirror. Rachel looks really cute as she keenly watches the house for signs of movement. I admit that I'm staring at her, but when's the next time I'm going to have an opportunity like this?

"You hear that?" Scott voices while cocking his head to hear the noise better.

I let out a sigh. "That's my stomach, you idiot. I only eaten half a slice of pizza all day and I would have eaten more if it wasn't for some _IDIOT_ calling me." I tell him.

"Guys, I see something!" Rachel says, being me out of my angry haze.

True to her word, a bulky man is stepping out of the beige house.

"That's Jarvis! What's he doing?" Scott asks, his eyes squinting in the darkness.

"Looks like Batson is giving him something. Something small." I note. With my night vision binoculars, I observe Jarvis placing the item into his breast pocket and patting it several times. Jarvis says something to Batson and a few moments later he turns to walk to his car.

"Affirmative meeting with Jarvis then. Jarvis leaves in a blue Mercedes-Benz. Licenses plate: AJ9-G766," I continue to note. Jarvis flicks his gaze to our car and we all suddenly duck from his view. Apparently, we all forgot that the windows are tinted.

"Better tell our boss then." Scott whispers to me with his head still below the steering wheel.

"I can't. I'm not supposing to be working tonight." I growl back, slowing peeking to see if Jarvis has driven off. Batson closes his door just as Jarvis starts his engine. He then drives away into the night. It's not in our orders to chase after him.

"Blah blah. Fine. I'll just text it to him." He waves me off with his stupid hand. "Thanks Rachel! You're the star tonight!" He beams as to turns to see the thrilled Rachel.

"Thank you very much, Lane." She says with a cute blush.

Scott starts up the car and with a devilish gleam in his stupid eyes he asks Rachel, "So do you think you know what we do?" I pale noticeably, because that sort of thing can be seen in the dark.

"Scott!" I whine. I can't let this happen. Having Rachel know can be a disaster and could ultimately ruin everything I've worked so hard to maintain.

"Aw Bayar, you're no fun! You know she's going to find out sooner or later."

"I think I know." Rachel announces and I'm dreading each passing second. My heart does that crazy beating again and I clench my fists, waiting to hear Rachel's next words.

"You guys are drug dealers."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for any errors and for the delay to anyone who might be following this. All characters rightfully belong to Glee, I'm just writing for fun.**

* * *

Ch7

R

Quinn is looking at me as if she's seen Cerberus and Lane's face is the same shade of a pimento. He had pressed his face into the cloth of his shoulder and I can hear his muffle laughs as Quinn continues to stare at me, her mouth agape.

I'm so sure of my conclusion because if my calculations are correct, it'd make sense that Lane and Quinn are drug dealers. They must have an underground lab somewhere and spend all night together brewing meth crystals and secretly packaging them in tiny zip-locks and quite possibly baking those brownies that I had once eaten at Puck's party and then selling them for a profit that is so disturbingly wrong that I can't believe that this is become of Quinn's life! (Mentally insert deep inhalation.)

"I can't believe you! Did you throw away your education for this? F-for a potential buyer? Admit it! You and Lane are snooping for rich lonely men who have nothing better to do then to get an occasional high!" I jab a finger into her chest, hoping my furious eyes pierces her tarnished soul.

Quinn stutters as she tries to form coherent words, confusion replacing her astonished features. She tries to speak, but only fails again and then just settles to shake her head repeatedly. She lets out a defeated sigh as her fingers pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Haha! Whew! ….Rachel, please enlighten us of how you came up with this theory. Haha, your friend is so hilarious!" Lane says as he elbows Quinn's arm, his face returning to his natural skin tone. She swats him away while never breaking her eye contact with me. My eyes-piercing-tarnished-soul thing doesn't seem to affect her at all.

"Scott, just drive. Baston might see our idle car near his driveway."

"Roger that! Okay, Rachel, tell us already! I'm dying to know!" He chuckles and shift gears, carefully guiding the car away from the beige-brick house.

"Well, judging from the neighborhood, I can deduct that these people must pay large tax bills since most of them have tennis courts in their back yards. Thus, I assume that they are wealthy to the extreme that they would most likely pay massive sums for illegal narcotics. And Baston gave something to Jarvis that he, quote, placed in his breast pocket and patted several times, end quote." I explain, while bending necessary fingers to make my point. "Whatever Jarvis has, it's important. Valuable. Maybe something that he'd guard with his life. That's why you guys are spying on Baston because he must have betrayed you. He's sharing his sickening stash to Jarvis!"

Quinn and Lane share a side glance. My confidence builds when I see Lane's eyes sparkle and he nods to my statement. "And that's why you were in your UPS uniform earlier. You were shipping the drugs out! Where are you planning to mail them to? What if someone finds out? Ehh? The box could have a corner tear which can leak out your drugs! What if you get caught! Worse, what if your drugs infect the workers?" I stroke my chin and my eyes widen at the speculation. This is serious and Quinn is a part of this scandal. I have to stop this somehow.

"And you, Lane! How could you? You're just as responsible as she is!" I pout and let out a huff, glaring at the back of Lane's head. I was really starting to like him too since he was so friendly to me earlier.

"Well, I can assure you that Lily and I are not drug dealers. Not even close. " He says as he catches my eyes through the rearview mirror.

Quinn is silent and she had angled her body to look out the passenger window sometime during my rant. It seems like she closed herself out of the conversation; her face passive. I used to see this reaction all the time during glee club rehearsals, especially when we were seniors. She was so sad then, and I wonder if she's feeling that way now. I wanted so desperately to help her then, but we were never as close. We were mere acquaintances, but on the verge to becoming actual friends. Of course, we never reached that point since I was focused in NYADA while Quinn….well, I don't know what happened to Quinn. She had vanished then.

"Are you okay, Lily?" It feels so weird to call her that than her actually name, but I must do as I was told. Quinn nods and I see a ghost of a smile on the reflecting glass.

"I'm fine. It has been a long day." Her voice sounds sad even though she says she alright. I'll have to pry it out of her later. Maybe she was hoping that I would guess correctly or something. "I just can't believe you'd think I'm a drug dealer. I mean, of all the things…drugs, really? I'm not that type of person to do something like that. It makes me wonder what kind of person you think I am."

Oh. I'm caught off guard by her detached voice, it's like she sounds wounded. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume like that. Gah. I'll never change, will I?" I let out a gurgle of a laugh and fidget with my hands. I should have let them explain then letting my thoughts carry me away. Obviously, I'm wrong and now Quinn is drifting away again. I can't let that happen when it took me forever find her and I'll do whatever it takes to have her open up.

The conversation is strained and Lane exchanges glances with me, he's probably trying figure out my relationship with Quinn. "Okay, girls. We have to stop by headquarters. I need to tell boss our observation but my phone died so we'll just head there now and Lily isn't suppose to be here. My promise still holds and I'll drop you off safely, Rachel."

"Why, why, why? Why of all people are you my partner?" Quinn asks the window.

"Haha, you ask me that every day. It just so happens that out boss decided to pair the best, that's Lily here, with the worst, moi. Rachel, you're looking at the semi-brilliant duo ever and I got to say we're absolute best out of all the squads. Cheer up, Lily, we're already here." Lane signals his blinker and drives into an empty parking garage. I didn't get a chance to see what building we just drove into because I was more focused on Quinn.

Lane parks on the fifth floor and we get out of the car. "How about you take Rachel to the rooftop and you guys can do a little sightseeing while I go to the office? I'll meet you girls there once I'm done." Quinn and I look at each other and I shrug. I really have no idea what is going on, but if Lane's my ride back and I don't see the harm. Plus, I'll finally get a chance to talk to Quinn. He had already started walking to the double doors and we stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do.

"Come on, it'll give us something to do while we wait for him. Sorry about him by the way. He's always messing something up so I'm used to it by now. I hope he doesn't take too long." Quinn takes my hand and leads me to the elevator. I let out a bubbly laugh and smile at Lane's retreating form.

"He reminds me of Finn." I blurt. Instantly, I'm overwhelmed with sadness and my chest tightens at the memory. My eyes automatically tear up and I find myself sniffling. Finn passed away a few years ago and it still breaks me every time I think of him. I've learned to move on, but it's not really the same. There will always be a special place for him in my heart.

When we stepped inside of the elevator, I hear Quinn's breath hitched and I feel her squeeze my hand. She feels it too. Sadness spreads over her face and she pulls me in for a hug. "Soon we'll see him in the stars. He's probably outshining out all the other ones." I smile into the crook of her neck. She's right about that.

The elevator doors slide open and I'm met with a gentle breeze. Of all the years I've lived in New York, I've never been on a rooftop before; nevertheless, on top of a skyscraper. The initial scene is breathtaking; the glimmering lights of cars, the flashing beacon of a nearby lighthouse and ships alike, but the most amazing of all is the glow from surrounding buildings. New York's nightlife is simply wonderful and it's among the many reasons why I love this city so much. I tilt my head and gaze at the many stars, looking for Finn.

"There he is." I hear Quinn say as she points to my left. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. My tears are flowing freely now and I smile at the star. Hello, Finn. I bring two fingers to my lips, kiss them and raise my arm to the bright star.

I feel a finger touch my cheek and I jump at the touch. Quinn had wiped away a tear and I can see that she's crying too. "He's up there and he will always be watching over you. He's in a better place now." I can only nod at her words and I fling myself into her arms for another hug. I miss Finn, but I also miss her too. I feel her arms wrap around me and we stay let that after a little while. A moment later, I let go and stare into the hazel eyes. I reach up slowly and wipe away a lingering tear.

"I miss you, Quinn."

"I miss you too." The eye contact must have been too intense for Quinn as she quickly turns to the outer ridge. I follow her and we both lean against wall, silently looking at the skyline.

"Quinn, I want to know how you're doing. You disappeared and I had no idea where you went. You protected me and you suffered serious injuries. How's your shoulder?" I chance a look since I know how closed off she could be.

"I'm all healed up now. It took months of physical therapy but it was worth it. And I've been through worst, so it wasn't actually that bad." She proves her point by moving her arm in a circular motion.

She's been through worst? I frown at her words. How can I not think she's a part of a mafia or something of that sort? Never mind that, I want her to open up to me and if that takes time I'll learn to be patient.

"That's great. I'm really glad that you're healthy, but next time will you let me be there while you recover? I know I might be annoying but you had me so worried. I didn't know your condition and not seeing you only made me more paranoid. I just…I was so afraid, Quinn. You were gone and it was my fault that you got hurt."

"Okay, first of all, it wasn't your fault. How could it? You didn't know there was a madman nearby shooting people. You had no control of what happened and I would rather face major injuries than have you dead."

"I'm just sorry for what happen. You've suffered so much for my behalf." I voice dropped to a whisper. She saved my life and a thousand thank-you's will never be enough.

"Its okay, Rachel. I'm glad you're alright as well. We were lucky and things could have been a lot worse." Silence fills the air again, but it's comforting. I turn to look at Quinn and I find her watching me.

"What? Have you been watching me for long?"

"Oh. Maybe." She smirks and turns to look back at the nightlife.

"Ahem. Okay…Quinn, I want you to know that if you ever need a listening ear, I'm here for you. I can't lose… I almost lost my mind when you disappeared for the second time. Just please don't run off. It's only a hunch, but I think that whatever you're a part of it is weighing you down." I step closer and cover her hand that's resting on the wall with mine. "I know firsthand that life is challenging, but I find that if I talk it out I feel better. I have Kurt, but who do you go to when you need release?" I entwine my fingers with hers and look directly in her eyes. "I understand that you can't tell me directly, but just know that I'm willing to help you if you ever need it. Please, don't cut me out. I don't know what I would do if I can't find you again."

She studies my face and glances at our conjoined hands. "Thank you Rachel, but I have to ask why? I've been nothing but awful to you during high school. After all the things I've done to you, why would you even want to see me? I don't even know if you would ever forgive me." She ducks her head and turns away from me, her eyes are glossy again.

My hand grips hers and I catch her gaze. "Hey, that was so long ago. What's done was done and look, we turned out ok. I got into Broadway, and you, well you're definitely in something. You are not the girl you once were. And I do want to see you. To me, friendship is sacred and I want us to be friends. I have no doubts that you and I can share that wonderful bond. Please? Can we be friends?" I flash a tentative smile. I watch her comprehend my sincere words, but it seems like she's fighting some sort of internal battle. She lets out a jagged breath and nods.

"Okay, Rachel. Yes, let's be friends. Geez, that sounds so corny. Somehow, I have a feeling that you'd be talking nonstop if we happen to have a girl's night with Kurt." I giggle and playfully hit her arm. I have to admit that something like that could happen.

"Seriously, though. Is there anything you want to talk about now?" My hand still covers hers and I feel it tense. I angle my body towards her, my soundless way to show that I'm patient and open. Quinn closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"There is something. I…I've been having some nightmares. Sometimes I can shake it off, but sometimes I can't. It's hard to keep work separate, you know? I don't want it to consume me. Here, I'm called as Lily and it's nice to be secretive with a different identity and all, but I'm still Quinn underneath. I don't want to lose that part of me. I hope that all makes sense."

"I get it. Your work sounds really challenging. How about this, if you have another nightmare and you feel like you can't shake it off you can come to my place. You can stay there as long as you can. I once had nightmares about auditions and Kurt was such a sweetheart, he stayed with me until I got over it, well until I won the part. Just know that there's someone out there who will help you. You don't have do this alone. Plus, if I was alone in an apartment with voices, I'd have nightmares too."

Quinn frowns at my last statement and says, "Voices?" Her features quickly flickers at her post comment and grins at me. "Oh, right. Thanks, Rachel. I'll definitely keep that in mind."

We both jump when we hear the chime of the elevator. It seems like Lane is on his way to meet us. Quinn recollects herself and places her other hand on top of mine. "Don't you worry, Quinn. Although work is very important, you don't have to have it define you. You are you and I'm just happy that you'll show me that side to me." Quinn nods and smiles at me.

"Thanks for waiting and I'm sorry if I took so long. I'll take you both to your homes now. Are you girls ready?" Lane says as he reproaches us. We both nod in unison and I start walking towards the elevator.

"Are you coming?" I ask Quinn as I turn to look over my shoulder.

"Just one minute." I watch Quinn as she raises two fingers to her lips, kisses them, and slowly lifts her arm to the sky. I hear her say, "Good night, Finn."

The walk to the car was a silent one and the drive is almost the same with an occasional voice for directions. It has been a strange day, but a good kind of strange. I've met a new fan and I'm finally talking to Quinn again. I know it will take a while but something tells me that this time will definitely be lasting and sincere. I sign Lane a huge autograph on a playbill of the show I'm currently starring in and tell him my many thanks for the night. Quinn walks me to the entrance and I can't help but to wrap arms around her in a hug.

"Good night, Quinn. Thank you so much for the amazing night. It was really fun spying and stargazing. And please, call me if you ever need a chat." I mumble into her collarbone. The doorman is standing a few feet away so I kept my voice low.

"No, thank you. I think we both discovered and gained something tonight. I can't wait for new beginnings that might lead us to." She pulls back and winks at me. With a nod towards the doorman and a final wave, I watch her departure. It's not soon after that I trudge up six flights of stairs and call it a night.

* * *

I hear distant beeping during my audition. This audition is considered one of the most important of all Broadway history and to have something _beeping_ during my solo is uncalled for. Who's _fucking_ phone is that? It seems to get louder and the faces of the director and producer are fading, drawing me away from dreamland. Oh. It's my _fucking _phone. I groan and fumble around for my phone.

"Hello?" My pillow is covering half of my face and I squint to see what time it is. Three o'clock?

"Hello? Hi, Rachel. I'm sorry, but can I come over? I-I've had a nightmare and this one really hit close to home." Her voice is shaky and I can tell something is very wrong.

I bolt from my bed and I nearly knocked my head on my side table. Quinn. This is the first time I have heard her voice since we went that night and that was almost a month ago. Any grogginess that I had moments ago quickly vanishes and I'm wide awake now. "Quinn, yes. Please stop by."

"Okay, could you open the door then?"

Confusion flares through me as I blindly stumble to my front door, almost knocking over my lamp. Is she already here? How did she ever pass my doorman? He's usually so careful and suspicious that he demands identification and clarification of all visitors, especially during late hours.

I'm still in shock of hearing Quinn's voice from the other line. I turn on a hallway light and quickly open my door. Quinn stands before me in a windbreaker jacket, t-shirt that has a dinosaur on it, and some sweats.

"Sorry about this, I should have called Scott or something. I just…I don't want to be alone now." She silently mumbles as she walks through the door, avoiding my gaze. I notice that her eyes are bloodshot and that she's been crying; the tear streaks are visible as much. Her hands are shaking and her entire body rakes with what I assume is fear. Then suddenly, she collapses and kneels before me on the hallways tiles.

"Oh, sweetie." I close the door and crouch next to her. Wrapping my arms around her, I whisper that's she okay in her ear. I feel her nod and she sniffles as she buries her face into my shoulder. I shift so that my back is leaning against wall and I pull Quinn to me so that the majority of her weight rests upon my torso while murmuring that she's safe and that it's alright. Something is definitely bothering Quinn, because I've never seen her so terrified before. She's still shaking, so I rub my thumbs in a circular motion and I hum the beginning notes of Amazing Grace, a coping mechanism I learned not too long ago. Immediately, she relaxes and draws closer to me.

I've lost track time after I sang the song over and over, but it doesn't matter. I brush her hair away from her face and study her features. She has her eyes closed but I can tell that she's a lot better than she was before. "Quinn? How are you doing? Do you want to talk?"

She nods her negative and slowly opens her eyes to look into mine. I gently graze her temple with a finger and then slowly trace the curve of her strong brow, removing the last her anxiety. "Let's lay in bed. The tiles are cold and I can feel your shivers." I stand and draw out my palm to help her up. Flicking off the light, I guide her through the darkness to my bedroom.

I walk to the right of my bed and lift the covers, Quinn's quick to follow to the left and we lay there looking at my ceiling. I turn to my head and I see that the Quinn's rigid form returned. Whatever demons she is battling, I don't want her to feel alone or helpless. "Come here." I comfort her as I pat the space between us. She turns and settles close to me, her head resting upon my shoulder and she wraps her arms around me. It's not soon after that she finally relaxes and drifts off to sleep. I trying to fight off sleep as I study her peaceful face, but my lids are heavy. With a last glance at her, I let sleep take over.

When I awoke, Quinn wasn't next to me. She left without a note and there wasn't a trace to show that she had spent the night with me. I'm disappointed and worried about her. As a Fabray, I know Quinn usually neglects help when she needs it, but I'm happy that she called me this morning. I check my phone constantly throughout my day just in case Quinn calls or texts me, but I haven't heard anything from her. The day dragged on and I finally ready myself for bed.

Very much like the day before, I'm awoken from my phone. It's Quinn again. I greet her at my door as she stands awkwardly before me. "Hey…May I come in?" She asks me through her eyelashes. Again, I notice the bloodshot eyes and her stiffen posture. I smile and nod. I lead her to my room and she shifts close to me again and quickly falls asleep in my arms. This nightly routine continues for the next three days. As much I want to help Quinn, waking up at two or three every morning takes its toll on me and affects my singing. I know she's scared and I'll always welcome her with open arms, so I made a drastic decision. Since she always leaves before I wake, I taped a note asking her to move into my apartment with a copy of my key attached to it on the front door. That way Quinn can let herself in and sleep next me so that I don't have to wait around for her call. It's a bold move, but I'm certain that she'll feel assured to know that she can permanently stay with me. And every night after that, I would sometimes wake during the night to find her cuddling me and I know that she's getting the rest she deserves. The darks rings that I've noticed long ago had vanished. I never might hear whatever Quinn is dreaming of, but I'm reassured to know that she's here. Although she's not in my apartment during the day, I can tell that she's been around. A mug in a shape of a lamb is in the cabinet next to my cups, a lingering pomegranate scent on my pillow, and my scarf is draping over the arm of the couch.

This morning, just every morning, I wake to my blaring alarm clock. I grunt loudly and lift a hand to smack the snooze button. My palm definitely did not connect to the annoying device.

"Shit, Rachel!" I hear next me as I jolt up to find Quinn clutching her nose.

"Oh my god! Quinn! Are you alright?" I cup her cheeks to examine the damage. Quinn's face scrunches up, a clear sign of how much pain she feels. "I think I'm okay. Geez. Why is the clock on my side anyways?" She motions to the clock which is still making its presence known. I reach across her to switch if off and then give her an apologetic hug. "I'm so sorry I've hurt you. And it's on that side because that's where the outlet is. We'll swap sides next time."

Giving it a final rub, she pats my back and pulls away to catch my gaze. Her eyes are bright and her smile is contagious that can't help but to reflect it back. "Yeah, that sounds best. I don't want you to break my nose." I bring up a pillow and whack her with it.

I stop my little one-sided pillow fight and my initial surprise returns. "Wow. I can't believe you're here! Isn't it crazy that you've been my roommate for a couple days and today is first where you can I are both awake?" Quinn laughs and takes the pillow for my hands and smacks me right in the face, causing me to fall backwards from the sudden impact.

"Good morning, roomie. I hope that you're glad to see me though; I wanted to see your reaction but _that_ had to happen. And that was for my nose by the way." I unearth myself from the pillows and I can't even retain my excitement. This is probably the best way to wake up, minus the nose part.

"Of course I am! I wanted to talk to you for so long. You never leave a note or anything and I was so worried!"

"Yes, I'm sorry about that. I just felt so embarrassed that I needed comfort for my silly nightmares and anxiety attacks that couldn't face you. You have no idea how happy I was when you asked me to move in with you. I wanted to tell you personally how thankful I am. I've improved so much during my stay and it's all because of your help." Quinn's smiles shyly and ducks her head.

"You're very welcome, Quinn. Whatever you're dealing with there's always a light at the end of the tunnel. They're not silly nightmares and please don't ever hesitant to ask. I'll do whatever it takes to help you feel better." I rest my hands on her shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze.

"They started to get a worse and usually if I sit outside your door for a few minutes or so I can shake it off, but then it so bad that I had to see you."

"Wait, what? You were sitting outside my door?"

"Yeah I was, I didn't want to bother you and I know how serious you are with your beauty rest." It's my turn to smack her. She lets out a muffle laugh as she falls backwards and hugs the pillow.

"We'll since we're roommates now it's guaranteed for you to bother me." I smirk. I finally notice the clothes Quinn is wearing. She's wearing a professional white blouse and slacks. Her vest drapes on the nearby doorknob.

"Are you going to work?" I ask curiously. Usually she sleeps in a t-shirt and sweats so to see her lying next to me in these garments is slightly odd.

"Yeah, I went earlier this morning. The only thing I need left is to debrief which I can do here. That's what I usually do on Fridays." I look pass her, even though I know what time it is, but it all seems so unreasonable. How did Quinn go to work already when it's only eight thirty in the morning?

"I know that look." She grins at my confusion. She sits up and tugs at the seams of my pillowcase, she looks nervous for some reason.

"I think it's time for me to tell you everything."

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**Please review since I'd like to know your thoughts and comments. Thanks for reading! **


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